Showing posts with label Rough Draft. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rough Draft. Show all posts

Monday, November 23, 2015

"Good Night, Sweet Prince": Death and Reconciliation in Shakespearean Tragedy

Death and Shakespearean tragedy are two things that inevitably go together. Although adaptations of tragedies have been performed where character deaths were removed, for the most part the deaths remain essential to each play’s plot and themes (Bradley 225). The death of a tragic hero has come to define the genre of tragedy beyond the traditional definitions set by Greek tragedies and later medieval tragedies. It has become a deciding factor in designating the genres of Shakespeare’s less obvious plays (Bradley 25). Why is the death of a tragic hero so key to the genre of tragedy? It provides a fitting end for a character who has spent the length of the play struggling with burning questions about the human condition or endured a great deal of suffering due to their own and other’s mistakes. This is the case for the tragic heroes of Hamlet, Othello, and King Lear. However, their deaths are always more complicated than that. In Hamlet’s case, he spends the entire play contemplating death as opposed to the meaninglessness of life. He seems to come to the conclusion that death leads to nothing, yet in the end he accepts and even welcomes his own death. In contrast, Othello uses his death as a tool to retrieve his lost honor and his lost love, like many other suicidal characters from Shakespearean tragedies. King Lear, on the other hand, does not contemplate death or use it as a tool. He doesn’t even realize that he is dying. Yet his death still serves an important purpose. Although each of these deaths contribute to the natural bleakness and pessimism of tragedy, they also add an element of hope to the end of the play because they provide an opportunity for reconciliation and redemption for the tragic hero as well as other characters within the play.
Hamlet’s death provides him with an opportunity of reconciliation with the idea of death itself. From the beginning of the play, Hamlet contemplates the idea of death obsessively. In several different soliloquies, such as the famous “to be or not to be” soliloquy in Act III, scene i, he wrestles with the idea of death as the end to existence. He sees death as an “end/ The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks/ That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation/ Devoutly to be wish'd.” At the same time, he does not know what will come after death, asking “For in that sleep of death what dreams may come”.  As the play goes on, Hamlet becomes more and more prepared for his own death. According to Walter C. Foreman, Jr., in his book The Music of the Close: The Final Scenes in Shakespeare’s Tragedies, “one of the things Hamlet must do (and does) before assuming his tragic destiny is to exorcise his fears about experience after death” (3). In Act 5, scene ii, just before he goes to his tragic fencing match with Laertes, Hamlet expresses his readiness for death by recognizing that “there’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all”. Before he even knows how he will die, Hamlet has already reached a reconciliation with the idea of death.

I will go on to talk about Hamlet’s actual death scene, his final words, and Horatio’s eulogy (“Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince: And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!”) and how that adds reconciliation and hope in the midst of an otherwise very bleak scene. After that, I’ll move on to Othello and talk about how his suicide allows him to reconcile himself with his guilt and maintain his honor. Then I’ll write about King Lear’s death, how it’s unique but also similar to the others, and how it gives him reconciliation and redemption from his sins through his grief over Cordelia’s death.



Sunday, November 22, 2015

Rough Draft

Sarai Davila
Professor Gideon Burton
English 382
22 November 2015

Romantic Shakespeare and American Realism

The literary tradition of juxtaposing country and city life to exacerbate the differences between the two is a far-reaching one. It gained most of its fame, however, in the 1600’s when various writers used this pastoral idealism to demonstrate the stark contrast between how people in different settings might act. These were most certainly stereotypes rooted in a certain level of truth, and therefore many writers utilized this strategy. Shakespeare took this idea to another level by using many elements, setting included, to characterize the plot and develop the characters. These strategies have been copied by writers throughout the years, writers who romanticized settings, elements, and so forth to demonstrate distinct characteristics in order to further the plot. In American literature, previous to the 1800’s, settings and non-human aspects were either described in great detail without emotion or not at all. They were merely physical descriptions. The era of realism, but more specifically “regionalism”, brought a very different style to the written word. Settings and non-human elements, such as mythical beings, were suddenly characters in their own right. Essentially, the characterization of settings had come full circle. A great deal of 19th century regionalism and local color writing in American literature was indirectly inspired by the representation of characters in Shakespeare’s romantic countryside.

As a general idea, anybody who has never visited the English countryside has one idealized notion of what they might experience when they do. A lush, green and pleasant landscape where quaint farmers and shepherds speak with thick accents and smile with ruddy cheeks. They might invite you in, give you fresh goat’s milk, teach you a few things around the old farm, and if you happen to be a young marriageable woman, you might just fall in love. This notion has been drilled into the minds of all non-British people from all angles. It crops up most specifically in the romantic literature and the subgenres. Contrary to these picturesque dioramas is the reality of a cold, rainy, sometimes very sometimes very bleak place. Especially during the 1600’s when Shakespeare’s pastoral comedies were being performed. These beautiful images certainly existed to a certain degree, but not to the level that the population expects. In the modern world you are even less likely to encounter such incredible, untouched landscapes, although you are also less likely to encounter starvation. {At some point in this paragraph I will use this quote: “…attempts to sell a landscape and a lifestyle that no longer exist, and more significantly only did so (if they were ever a reality) at the cost of all sorts of dispossession” (Gilroy xii).
OUTLINE:
This next paragraph would delve into the history of pastoral settings in plays, specifically in Shakespeare and in As You Like It, as well as in various other comedies. The Norton edition of As You Like It has an article called “Perspectives on Pastoral”, with this quote, although I may use another to discuss the meanings and uses of pastoral settings. “The pastoral permitted and encouraged opportunities for mixing in one work ‘imitation’ with ‘invention’, art with artifice, the artless with the artful—and generated discussions of such mixes” (Colie 254). I want to also work in some of the history of the genre, specifically before Shakespeare’s time. I can then point out that despite his imitation of previous traditions, he is still the most recognized writer from that time period, and thus we can presume that he had a farther-reaching influence on later genres.

I would like to also use Midsummer here to discuss the use of setting in something other than pastoral: woods setting vs court setting, and how that affected characters and their actions. Especially since this also has the aspect of crossing worlds when the lovers venture into the woods and begin acting more recklessly, bringing to light the more carnal sides of them. This is not pastoral, in genre, but it does display exactly the same principles of genre that one might find there. Shakespeare uses this setting to exacerbate their behaviors, and how nature affects that. And again, in this play the court and city life is cold and unfeeling when compared to the wild woods.

Next could be a paragraph or two analyzing the various affects of this trope. Basically identifying the stereotypes within this scope. Rural and pastoral as being playful and fun, woods and being wild and representative of human nature, city as being rigid and classist. I can identify the aspects and how they take these ideas further while talking about how this is a romantic form of literature.

I would need to go into depth about the local color genre in American literature, at some point, and I would do that here. I might use Mark Twain and Huckleberry Finn as an example because I think he’s the strongest example of that type of writing. I could also bring the romantic genre into this again just as an example of how far-reaching that type of trope is. The story Young Goodman Brown is a perfect example of woods and wild, sinful humans. But again I’d bring it back to realism and how a seemingly unconnected part of American lit could still be affected by the genius that is Shakespeare.

Works Cited

Shakespeare, William, Leah S. Marcus, and Rosalie Colie. "Criticism." As You like It: Authoritative Text, Sources and Contexts, Criticism. New York: W.W. Norton, 2012. 254-268. Print.
Gilroy, Amanda. "Introduction." Green and Pleasant Land: English Culture and the Romantic Countryside. Leuven: Peeters, 2004. Xii. Print.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Just an intro

I thought I would share the start of my paper, it's almost finished with the review process, but here's a little taste of what I have going so far:


"It is an age-old war raged from the beginning of time: justice versus mercy. In Christian belief the relationship between the two began in the heavens with God’s plan for the Atonement – to have Jesus Christ suffer on the cross to pay the price of justice and provide mercy to the world. And yet still in this day one can struggle daily to find the balance between the two without a proper leading example. In William Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure the character Angelo provides a great example to the human soul and our struggle for justice and mercy within our own selves.
            The Elizabethan Era could be considered a frustrating time for law and order. Punishments for crime were doled out based on class standing (Wagner, 2010). When trials were performed they were almost always designed in favor of the prosecutors, with the victim or defendants refused any legal representative (Wagner, 2010).
            In most reviews of Measure for Measure, Angelo’s character is seen as the antagonist, the scum of the earth- “the wickedness of Angelo is so atrocious” (Bowdler, 2). On top of this, many critics see Angelo as getting off easy from his crime and his unmerciful being. “This monster of iniquity appears before the Duke, defending his cause with unblushing boldness; and after the detection of his crimes, he can scarcely be said to receive any punishment” (Bowdler, 2). Not surprisingly, this review come from a “family” edition of Shakespeare’s plays. It is easy for one to find the need to pick out the good and evil in literature, it is what is taught in every high school English class; it is an easy theme to pick out in any story. Not only that but it creates an easy foundation for teaching moral lessons. But what if the focus was not on the black versus white, the good versus evil, but on showing more of humanity and reality."

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Once Upon a Tudorista: The Story of Lizy's Paper

Portrait of Henry VIII and his family. 
 
It all began what feels like a very long time ago. Even I don't remember exactly how it started. I do know that I was beginning to see connections between the tragic events in the lives of the Tudor monarchs and similar events in Shakespeare's plays. I'd spent my life growing up reading about the Tudors, so why not write about them? 

With this topic in mind I began putting my ideas together. I started officially by searching for relevant scholarly articles. The best result I had was the paper "Shakespeare's King Richard III and the Problematics of Tudor Bastardy", which was an in-depth look at the connections between Richard's accusations of his relatives' bastardy and the tainted legitimacy of the Tudors. When I started drafting the paper I decided to narrow down the topic to just legitimacy. I still struggled, however, with my verbose writing and also my lack of sufficient scholarly sources. I was not very successful with social networks, but I tried posting my developing thesis statements on Facebook.

My grandfather passed away on the weekend of March 23rd, and the funeral was to be on the 30th. Deciding to head down to Arizona for the funeral, I finished my first draft by Wednesday the 27th and drove down on the 28th. It was here I was able to talk to my cousin Gloria, who commented on my ideas and gave me some more perspective (and by the way, she recently announced that she is expecting a baby). I returned just after midnight on April 1 and within twenty-four hours had found several more scholarly papers to add muscle to my argument, and I also checked out a couple of books from the library. I re-wrote the paper using substantial chunks from the first draft plus quotes from my new sources. For lack of writing time and paper space, my paper ended up being about why legitimacy was such an important issue in the sixteenth century rather than about how Shakespeare and the Tudors were connected, but I felt like the thematic issue was important to address (for personal reasons I will refrain from discussing).  I finished editing on Friday and called it good. 

Most of what I learned from the experience was that if I am writing an academic paper about something I am passionate about, I am more likely to put effort into it. Writing this paper gave me a chance to become more familiar with the Tudors and the history of their reign. From others' positive feedback and from my own personal feelings about the paper, this is one of the best term papers I have ever written.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

One rough, rough draft

So this is an incomplete draft. It doesn't even have an introduction or thesis statement, but my thesis is: traditionally, Henry V is seen as manipulative and conniving. However, by using Adam Smith's concept of sympathy to explain Henry's motives and source of rhetorical power, one understands a very different part of Henry than the previously accepted opinion of him being manipulative. (I know it needs work. It's a little wordy and confusing.) Anyway, mostly I'm looking to make sure that I explain Smith's concepts well enough for those who are unfamiliar with him. Thanks, guys! You're all awesome!

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

A New Paragraph: Traditional Readings of Sight in King Lear

When I met with Dr. Burton, he suggested that my paper's argument would be stronger if I established more of a counterargument in the traditional readings of King Lear. Here is a paragraph detailing the usual way blindness is read in the play and the problems it brings up for blind studies. The next paragraph I'm going to be putting together is one that takes seriously the unity that might be disturbed in the play with my rereading. I'll take the play more seriously and try to find a new way to establish Shakespeare's parallels if I'm saying that Gloucester isn't be tricked by Edgar the way he's tricked by Edmund.

So anyway, here's the first of the new paragraphs:

The traditional reading of Gloucester’s blindness capitalizes on blindness as a reductive literary symbol. Harold C. Goddard presents a typical reading of the blind Gloucester in his essay on King Lear. Goddard points out the theme of sight and perception throughout the play: “The scene in question [Dover Cliffs scene] . . . is centered on the eyes and eyesight of Gloucester. But consider King Lear as a whole: does not practically everything in it turn on this subject of seeing? Darkness and light; blindness and vision--visions and blindness, indeed, of every kind” (143). Goddard is assuredly right to draw attention to the sight that pervades the text--there is ample evidence and justfication to bring up these parallels--but, published in 1960, his work comes from a critical tradition that does not problematize representations of disability in literature. His writing comes on especially shaky ground by today’s standards of criticism when he says, “In this, his version of The Last Judgment, Shakespeare has demonstrated that hatred and revenge are a plucking-out of the human imagination as fatal to man’s power to find his way in the universe as Cornwall’s plucking out of Gloucester’s eyes was to the guidance of his body on earth” (170). Goddard has gone so far in his textual analysis that blindness has become merely a symbol for him, abstracted as far as the Final Judgment, with no mention of the Gloucester, the actual blind character, except to say that his lack of sight equates to a lack of guidance. Even more recent and informal looks at blindness in King Lear do not push back against the purely metaphorical meaning of blindness. Sylvia Morris, an academic Shakespeare blogger, says, “The most striking [references Shakespeare makes to eyes and sight] occur in King Lear where the physical act of seeing is a metaphor for understanding and self-awareness. Sometimes words aren’t enough, and then Shakespeare translates the metaphor into action.” Even when blindness is enacted onstage, Morris chalks this action up not to character but to an extension of metaphor. It is just these types of analyses that Georgina Kleege rebuffs in her own work as “merely another version of the old story--the blind man as instructive spectacle, useful to everyone but himself” (90). Kleege seems, in essence, to want the blind in literature to be instructive in a different way, to learn how to live without site and thus, by implication, to serve as a model for blind readers. To be able to read blind role models into classic literature, we have to suspend, at least for a moment, our sighted focus on the symbolism of blindness and explore the character presented on the page without this imposed interpretive weight.

I has a better draft...?

So this is the running copy of the final draft. Intro/conclusion still needs work, maybe. Comments and advice are appreciated, and suggestions for a title are welcome? I'm adding the in-text citations tomorrow.
[Insert title Here]
While William Shakespeare himself lived and wrote in an era of peace and prosperity, the early and middle decades of the sixteenth century could not have been more different, with the government in turmoil as the monarchs of the Tudor dynasty struggled for a stable rule and succession thereafter. What made all of the Tudors, including Shakespeare's patron Queen Elizabeth I, so vulnerable was the need to rule and reproduce within the standard of legitimacy. Shakespeare as well as his audience recognized this vulnerability and, oddly enough, the issue of legitimacy crops up in certain of his plays, notably King Lear, Richard III, and King John. Just as Elizabeth and her sister Mary I who ruled before her had to come to terms with their questionable legitimacy in different ways, Shakespeare presented to his audiences in dramatic form the ways in which legitimacy or the lack thereof was confronted and dealt with and why certain efforts succeeded and failed. Shakespeare recreates the legitimacy battles of the Tudor dynasty in his plays to demonstrate that it is not illegitimacy that corrupts a person's character but falsifying legitimacy and the betrayal of family ties, and that legitimacy does not make a person good but virtue and loyalty to one's country does.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Where I'm At

Life is good!  And if only today looked like this.
For revising my paper, from classmates and myself:

  • Paul mentioned that I should work on transitioning between ideas better, so I've started to do that with my paper.  I realized that even though headings are helpful, with them I have to be especially careful that I don't separate the parts of my paper too much and have them not work together.

Friday, April 5, 2013

Rough, rough draft.

I still need a conclusion, and I need some SERIOUS editing, but here's a rough draft of my paper.

Lauren: A Few Words for You

(This is just a re-hash of some of the stuff I talked about in class).

As far as editing others' papers are concerned, my strengths are in the nitpicky stuff and my weaknesses are in overall structure. This being a rough draft, I won't get into the bits and bites of grammar because you should know what needs improvement. Your paper looks pretty good as far as I can tell. As I said before, I find Carl Jung's idea's intriguing and I like how you are applying them to this case. Being less familiar with Othello I don't know how well this fits with the original text, but I do know Iago by reputation. This also being an incomplete draft, I also feel ill-equipped to discuss your paper as a whole. From what I see, I like how you are using your primary text but I feel like either your quotations or your explanations of the quotes are insufficient. Example:
At one point in speaking to Roderigo he states, “Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago. / In following him I follow but myself” (I.i.57-59).  This exemplifies the twisted nature of his character reflected in the cunning twists of his language. 
 How specifically is his language cunningly twisted? I feel like I don't see all the connections between point A and point B as clearly as I would like. So far, good job. Keep it coming.

Please Exucse the Brain Deluge

This is what I have for my rough draft so far. Please note a few things. It is EXCESSIVELY long and significant chunks will need to be cut out, so you could do me a favor and point out what needs to be saved that would be appreciated. The final version will hopefully include more sources, more quotes from the primary texts, an introduction and conclusion, and less verboseness. I will also change the emphasis on ambition to something like vice or hypocrisy because in reading I've done recently I have discovered that ambition is not strictly a motivator. I will post an updated bibliography later. 

[Title To Be Determined]

Thesis:
Shakespeare recreates the trauma of the Tudor dynasty in his plays to demonstrate that it is not illegitimacy that corrupts a person's character but ambition, and that legitimacy does not make a person good but virtue.
 
Part I: An Echo of the Tudors

Scholars, writers, and ordinary people alike have always been fascinated by the tumultuous events of the Tudor dynasty. “From Shakespeare’s day to today, we have been obsessed with the Tudor period: the colourful lives of the monarchs, the complex rises and falls of both the servants of the crown and the nobility, the fact that ordinary people could make their way into the highest offices of the kingdom” (Morris). We are fascinated, perhaps, by the idea that the people who lived during those times have something to say to us, particularly the renowned playwright William Shakespeare who lived during the closing years of the reign of Elizabeth I, the last of the Tudors, and during the first years of the reign of her successor James I, and received the patronage of both. Those who observe the historical record closely understand that much of the turmoil during the reign of Elizabeth's father, Henry VIII, and the strained family relations of his children have to do with Henry's quest for a legitimate heir. Consequently, his daughters Elizabeth and Mary both struggled to obtain legitimacy in one way or another during their lifetimes in order to secure their claims to the throne. The search for personal legitimacy was the driving force behind the lives of the Tudor monarchs. Shakespeare's plays contain echoes of the traumatic events and chaotic personalities of the Tudor dynasty that suggest that he is recreating the world of the Tudors in his plays to address how the issue of legitimacy affected them. For this paper, I will consider the plays Richard III, King Lear, and King John, as they are thematically the most relevant to the issue of legitimacy in Tudor times.
Shakespeare's play Richard III is traditionally considered heavily embedded with Tudor propaganda, as it is depiction of the fall of the House of York as it lead to the rise of the Tudor dynasty. However, it is also a thematic treatise on the legitimacy of the Tudors themselves. In his paper “Shakespeare's King Richard III and the Problematics of Tudor Bastardy” Maurice Hunt claims that it is also an open discussion of the questions of legitimacy surrounding Henry VIII's heirs, revealing“the emergence of a paradigm of illegitimate legitimacy (or legitimate illegitimacy), a composite reproduced in the discourse on royal bastardy in King Richard III.” Richard III meets my criteria for analysis because it depicts the overturn of true legitimacy by an usurper because of how he smears the legitimacy of others, and how this overturn is reversed.
The play King John is considered an anomaly among Shakespeare's history plays, but it has a very frightening similarity to the Tudors in that it depicts the struggle for the English throne between members of a single family. Scholar Robert Lane points out that “Indeed, it is more than plausible that Shakespeare chose King John's reign because its legitimacy--the fundamental focus of the play--turned on strikingly similar issues (Lane). During the Tudor dynasty as in times before as depicted by Shakespeare, the throne of England was a highly coveted prize, but whoever wanted to claim it had to prove they had more legitimate credentials—such as birth and religious creed—than their oppnents. However, most of the contenders in both instances are very closely related. One would think that since these people are so closely related they would treat each other with love, but the desire for power has overpowered all of these affections. Shakespeare's depiction of this medieval royal family applies to the Tudors in that the struggle for monarchy and the legitimacy to secure it is a matter of life and death as well as war and peace.
While both of these plays have been demonstrated by Hunt and Lane to be thematically relevant, King Lear also includes a thematic discourse on issues of division within a royal family as well as on legitimacy itself. It is the subplot of the Earl of Glouchester and the division between his sons which merits critical attention because of how the illegitimate Edmund questions and changes his own legitimacy. There are parallels to the Tudor family in King Lear such that legitimacy is a label applied by others, individuals of questionable seek to change in themselves and others, and that false legitimacy is self-destructive while true legitimacy has nothing to do with birth. The struggle for legitimacy in Shakespeare's plays, therefore, is Shakespeare's commentary on how the monarchs of his day struggled with theirs.
Part II: what is legitimacy?
In his first soliloquy in King Lear, Edmund comments, “fine word,--legitimate!” (I,ii). “Legitimate” is indeed a fine word, expressing an interesting concept of what a person is and has a right to do, have, and be. The Oxford English Dictionary lists multiple definitions for the term “legitimate.” The top definition listed reads, “Of a child: Having the status of one lawfully begotten; entitled to full filial rights.” A child is considered legitimate, particularly in Shakespeare's world, if they are conceived and born to two married parents. However, legitimate can also be used to mean, “conformable to law or rule, sanctioned or authorized by law or right.” or, “normal, regular; conformable to a recognized standard type.” In Shakespeare, we see the term legitimate being used in its most literal sense in referring to birth, but the term can also be implied to mean to the second or third definitions listed here to mean that an individual is illegitimate in the sense that they are abnormal or they do not meet some social standard in either their behavior or their character. Likewise, the legitimacy of individuals in Shakespeare's day, particularly royalty, could be questioned in more than one sense. For instance, Queen Elizabeth I was often considered an illegitimate ruler by her Catholic enemies because she was a practicing Protestant—therefore, she lacked spiritual legitimacy. In both Shakespeare's plays and the Tudor dynasty, legitimacy is not merely a label associated with birth but a stigma assigned by others.
Regardless of the marital status of one's parents, legitimacy in both Shakespeare's plays and in the Tudor dynasty came with its social and cultural constructs that other people imposed on individuals. In the case of monarchs and legal succession, the Tudors either legitimized or bastardized themselves repeatedly during the sixteenth century. In his paper “Shakespeare's King Richard III and the Problematics of Tudor Bastardy,” Maurice Hunt comments that when Henry VIII's marriage to Katherine of Aragon was nullified, their daughter Mary—later Queen Mary I—was declared illegitimate. Elizabeth's mother Anne Boylen was arrested for “purportedly for having committed adultery with five men,” making it appear that “Elizabeth was not only a bastard but was most likely not even a royal bastard.” An “Act of Succession of July 1536 legally bastardized Elizabeth and Mary”. So Mary and Elizabeth's legitimacy was not purely a question of their father's actual marriages to their respective mothers but how he defined his relationships to these women. The works of Shakespeare also suggest that legitimacy should not be taken at purely literal value, either.
For his analysis of Richard III, Maurice Hunt suggests that the character of Richard presents a paradoxical idea of legitimate illegitimacy, or the state of being legitimate in one sense while being illegitimate in another. In the play, Richard is physically deformed and considers himself “not shaped for sportive tricks” that other people enjoy, “rudely stamped” by his deformity, “And that so lamely and unfashionable /That dogs bark at me as I halt by them,” as if the dogs sensed something unnatural in him. Since it is his nature to be unnatural, he will go against the order of succession to the throne and become the king: “I am determined to prove a villain” (I,i). Maurice Hunt claims that Richard acts not out of a need for legal legitimacy but a desire for legitimacy of a different kind.
“Physically twisted, resembling the shape of neither his mother nor his father, Richard feels like a bastard, even though he is by all accounts legitimately born. Self-disgustedly, Richard feels himself to be illegitimately legitimate (or legitimately illegitimate). Richard's recognition of legitimate succession could amount to a compensation for his feeling of being a figurative bastard. Richard protects himself from this negative emotion by projecting bastardy onto his imagined rivals, including Edward, his nephews, and the Bretons (including Richmond)”.
To Richard, his physical impairments are a sign that he is different or unnatural compared to others that Hunt suggests is in a similar manner to how people of illegitimate birth feel or are regarded as unnatural, and Richard regards his need for legitimization to justify his behavior towards others.
In King John, the issues of legitimacy are similar. John seems perfectly assured of his right to sit on the English throne, having succeeded through a will written by his late brother Richard I. He calls it, “Our strong possession and our right for us” to defend (I). Robert Lane discusses how this ties into the Tudor succession controversy, particularly as it applied towards the end of Queen Elizabeth's reign:\
Henry VIII by his will (also a death-bed instrument) had contravened primogeniture by designating the heirs of his younger sister Mary Tudor (the Suffolk line), rather than those of his older sister Margaret Tudor (the Stuart line) as the royal bloodline in the event Elizabeth died childless. [….] The will was challenged on technical grounds as well as for Henry's mental incapacity and was "for a time mislaid,"(29) but supporting its validity was the parliamentary authorization for the instrument' as well as precedent. That precedent was Richard I's will, giving the succession dispute in King John a direct relevance to the Elizabethan debate (Lane, emphasis added).
Notice how Lane describes how Henry VIII's will had contravened primogeniture, or in other words disregarded the traditional practice of having the eldest sibling inherit first. In the case of King John, Richard and John had an elder deceased brother named Geoffrey who had a son named Arthur that was disregarded when Richard wrote his will when he technically had the right to succeed. Arthur's mother, Constance, is aware of this fact, and has allied herself with Philip, the king of France, to reclaim her son's title. The fact that primogeniture was disregarded gives cause for the French Ambassador to openly regard John's regime as “borrow'd majesty” (I,l. 4). Constance and her French allies regard John as an unlawful ruler and therefore unnatural or illegitimate.
In Act II of King John, the two parties greet each other on a battlefield in France. Constance and John's mother, Queen Elinor engage in a vicious argument in which they label each other, and Elinor labels Arthur (in Arthur's presence, no less), illegitimate. Elinor threatens to produce a will to bar Arthur's claim to the throne, to which Constance replies, “Ay, who doubts that? a will! a wicked will: /A woman's will; a canker'd grandam's will!” Considering that this entire quarrel was started by a will, it seems that the usage of the word “will” is significant here. A will can mean a legal document as well as the power or desire to do something [OED]. The repeated use of “will” in Constance's statement is an example of several rhetorical devices. Most notably, diacope is a device in which the repetition of a word with one or more other words in between adds meaning, drawing attention back to the word being repeated. Constance is saying that any will that Elinor would draw up to bar her son's title would be wicked and evidence that Elinor's will to support John is wicked, and that she is a wicked old hag. Elinor and Constance's referal to a will being drawn up is a reference to the English practice of using legal measures to bar inheritance and legally define an individual's legitimacy. Maurice Hunt comments that by the time of the Tudors, “this legislative method for 'proving' (or 'disproving') legitimacy had transparently become the tool of political opportunists, often of the crassest stripe” ().
Shakespeare's presentation of King John was a commentary on the legal brutality of sixteenth-century European politics: if someone wanted to steal something, all a person had to do was claim that they person who had what they wanted was illegitimate.
In King Lear, however, legitimacy is not merely a matter of political opinion and legal proceedure but of defining individual worth and character. The play opens with a dialogue between the Earls of Gloucester and Kent as Gloucester introduces his illegitimate son Edmund to Kent. Of Edmund, Gloucester says, “I have so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am brazed to it.” Kent replies, “I cannot conceive you,” and .Gloucester jests, “Sir, this young fellow's mother could.” Gloucester turns Kent's use of the term “conceive” into wordplay. While Kent means to say he cannot conceive or understand how Gloucester has grown bold about an illegitimate son he used to be ashamed of, Gloucester says that Edmund's mother, with whom he had illicit intercourse, was bold enough to conceive a child from their union. Gloucester adds, “this knave came something saucily into the world before he was sent for, yet was his mother fair; there was good sport at his making,”. The term “saucily” means “impudent or flippant” or sexually suggestive. Gloucester says he enjoyed his brief affair with Edmund's mother, but it was her fault for getting pregnant and that Edmund was an unwelcome surprise. Kent remarks, “I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so proper.” As Edmund hovers politely in the background, Kent thinks it is a pity that Edmund is illegitimate, as though if Edmund were legitimate he would be entitled to Kent's complete rather than partial regard. To Kent and Gloucester, Edmund's illegitimacy devalues his worth as a person.
Although he does not say much in the first scene, it becomes clear in scene ii of King Lear that Edmund knows exactly what his father and Kent think of him. He questions why society should devalue him. He says of himself, “my dimensions are as well compact,/ My mind as generous, and my shape as true,/ As honest madam's issue.” However, other people refuse to acknowledge that because of his birth. “Why brand they us /With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?” In these last two lines quoted here, Edmund repeats the words “base” over and over, the context being that because he was produced from the “base” or improper union of his father with a woman he was not married to, Edmund himself is “base” or immoral. Edmund's repetition of the word “base” shows how much he is concerned about his self-worth, because other people do not agree that he is as good “As honest madam's issue.” His motive for his behavior towards his father and legitimate half-brother, then, is to make them and the other characters see that he is just as good and reaffirm how he defines himself. To Edgar, legitimacy is only a label.
Edmund's concern about his legitimacy is a reflection of how people in the sixteenth-century were concerned about the legitimacy of their monarchs for this reason. Hunt writes, that although “Henry [VIII] stubbornly insisted that Mary was a bastard and Elizabeth [was legitimate....] considerable grumbling and protest arose; for many of Henry's subjects, 'Catherine was still 'the Queen' and Mary 'the Princess.' Anne was 'the concubine,' and Elizabeth 'the little bastard'' (Ridley 25)” (Hunt). Considering people's views about legitimacy, Henry VIII's subjects were initially reluctant to accept Elizabeth as his heir. Perhaps they thought that if a monarch's child was illegitimate, they were not only legally but morally unfit to rule because of their natural “base” character. However, history proves, and Shakespeare concurs, that birth has nothing to do with the legitimacy needed to rule a country peacefully.
Part III: Challenging Legitimacy
Shakespeare characters who reject their illegitimacy make it their ambition to overcome it, but such ambition becomes corrupted as individuals betray family ties in order to steal their legitimacy, in much the same way members of the Tudor family did the same. Time and again throughout Shakespeare's plays, Shakespeare's villains are driven by ambition to destroy people who are good and seize power for themselves. In the cases of Richard in Richard III and Edmund in King Lear, their ambition is fueled by a knowledge that they are regarded by others as unnatural and base in character because of some form or another of illegitimacy and a desire to change that perception. The innocent victims who stand in their way are blood relatives whose legitimacy is more accepted than their own. This villainous behavior is a reflection of the relationships between members of the Tudor family who challenged each other for the right to the throne on the basis of their individual legitimacy.
Henry VIII's eldest child, Queen Mary I, was the daughter of the ill-fated Katherine of Aragon who was divorced in favor of Anne Boylen and then sent into exile where she died. Mary was separated from her mother during her mother's final years, and her relationship with her father was distant. “Mary Tudor remained an official bastard throughout much of Henry VIII's and all of Edward VI's reigns[....]Mary was usually kept during her father's lifetime far from court, forced to follow with less pomp Elizabeth and Edward in royal processions” (Hunt). Undoubtedly, memories of Anne Boylen's cruelty towards her and her mother as well as jealousy poisoned her relationship with her half-sister Elizabeth. During her reign, she imprisoned Elizabeth in the Tower of London and later banished her to remote country estates. Mary also reversed her own legitimacy status. “[T]he new queen proclaimed in October 1553 that she was the legitimate daughter of Henry's lawful marriage to Katharine of Aragon” and had Parliament authorize it (Hunt). Being a practicing Catholic, the move was not only to make herself a legal monarch but to ensure that she was spiritually and morally able to rule in her eyes and in the eyes of her subjects. By making Parliament acknowledge her legitimacy and banishing Elizabeth, Mary disassociated herself from the trauma of her past—erasing it as much as possible—taking control of her life and securing her claim to the throne.
In Shakespeare's plays we see similar behavior towards relatives being practiced by people who are driven by ambition to fulfill a similar need to Mary's—to legalize and publicize their legitimacy. In Richard III, Richard and his accomplice Buckingham go out in public to inform their subjects that Richard's deceased brother Edward and Edward's sons are unfit to rule, and they do this by attacking their legitimacy. Richard tells Buckingham to hint at Edward's “hateful luxury /And bestial appetite in change of lust” that led him to have carnal relations with a multitude of women, therefore disqualifying the legitimacy of his two sons (). At a later assembly, Buckingham dramatically tells Richard, “it is your fault that you resign /The supreme seat, the throne majestical, [….] To the corruption of a blemished stock” and he must become king to preserve the legal as well as moral integrity of the throne. Maurice Hunt comments that Richard's reference to Edward IV's sexual behavior are a clear reference to Henry VIII's “notoriously roving eye.” Hunt remarks that “It was Henry VIII's "bastardizing" lust that partly made both Mary and Elizabeth illegitimate as subsequent "marriages" blighted the girls' mothers and their origins (Hunt). Hunt clarifies what Richard is doing by his accusation of his brother: if a man is having too many sexual relationships at once, then it is hard to tell which children are lawfully his and which are not, and it is too easy to find evidence that puts their legitimacy to question. Furthermore, it explains that Shakespeare is clearly recreating the traumatic family life of the Tudors in a different context to show how vulnerable people with such a trouble background, such as Mary and Elizabeth Tudor, are to accusations of illegitimacy and the ambition of others to remove them.
Richard III also demonstrates what happens when people become too focused on the legitimacy status they assign to the people they mean to destroy. Once he has the approval of the people, Richard orders the assassination of Edward IV's sons who are at that time imprisoned in the Tower of London. He summons an assassin, Tyrrel, and informs him that “two deep enemies, /Foes to my rest and my sweet sleep's disturbers/Are they that I would have thee deal upon:/ Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower” ( ). Richard may likely be referring to his two nephews as “bastards” to keep in line with his own story. However, in the rest of the line he refers to them indirectly as “two deep enemies” and “Foes to my rest” because he is more concerned about how they threaten his claim to the throne. Richard is so focused on emphasizing the illegitimacy of his kin that he has distanced himself from them as a relative, disavowing all familial ties and obligations, seeking to kill them rather than to protect them.
Edmund in King Lear is another example of how ambition corrupts familial ties. Although he succeeds in betraying his father and half-brother, takes advantage of Regan and Goneril's betrayal of Lear, and literally seduces Goneril into betraying the Duke of Albany, he knows that he is acting against the moral code of the society he lives in. Edmund convinces his father Gloucester that his half-brother Edgar is plotting to kill him, and then he convinces Edgar to run away. Edmund then claims that he warned the purportedly plotting Edgar that “the revenging gods /'Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend; /Spoke, with how manifold and strong a bond /The child was bound to the father” (II,i). Edmund is taking advantage of the fact that his society has these expectations for children to respect their parents by claiming that Edgar has failed in this obligation. In reality, however, it is Edmund who has betrayed this expectation. As Edgar runs away, Edmund wounds himself with his sword and states, “Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion”. Edmund makes it appear that Edgar has wounded him. In reality, what he is doing is smearing the legitimacy of Edgar with his own criminal mischief. Edmund's deception produces the desired effect: Gloucester informs him after Edgar's departure that “of my land, /Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means /To make thee capable”. Notice how Gloucester refers to Edmund's behavior as “Loyal and natural” even though Edmund clearly knows what he is doing is unnatural. He proves his legitimacy not by good deeds but by hypocrisy and betrayal of the natural order.
Elinor and Constance in King John present an example of how family ties are betrayed in the quest for legitimacy by how they turn on each other. Considering that Elinor is Constance's mother-in-law, it is somewhat reasonable to expect that they would not see eye-to-eye on the issue of what titles Arthur should be granted, but their treatment towards each other is reprehensible. In Act I, Elinor tells John that “that ambitious Constance would not cease /Till she had kindled France and all the world,/ Upon the right and party of her son”. Elinor knows and states for a fact that Constance is consumed by her desire for power and to provide the best for her son rather than to appease the rest of the family. Elinor gives the opinion that their family argument “might have been prevented and made whole /With very easy arguments of love,” but instead the ambition-consumed relatives must resolve their quarrels through war (). The competition for the throne has completely destroyed their familial ties and driven them to neglect their filial obligations.
Constance and Elinor with their respective allies represent two sides of an argument that are competing for the throne by tearing down each other's legitimacy to the point that they no longer claim to be lawfully related. In Act II, Constance calls John a usurper, and Elinor calls Arthur a bastard. Constance defends herself by saying that Arthur was legitimately begotten and that in reality John is a bastard. Elinor tells Arthur, “There's a good mother, boy, that blots thy father.” Constance replies:“There's a good grandam, boy, that would blot thee” ( ) These parallel statements are an example of a rhetorical device called isocolon, a type of parallelism made up of statements of similar length (). In each sentence, one woman attacks the other, referring to her familial title, and says that she is attacking the legitimacy of both Arthur and his deceased father, through whom he has his claim to the English throne. The two women attack each other's marital fidelity, each to insult the legitimacy of the contestant for the throne they support as well as to insult each other for supporting the wrong person. Their slander is representative of the ways in which the legitimacy of the Tudors was attacked by other leaders in Europe during the sixteenth-century, and they behave in the same way, as though attacking each other's legitimacy would allow them to claim legitimacy for themselves. The reality is, however, that in both Shakespeare and in his world, such tactics are in reality ineffective.

 
Part IV: The Price of Legitimacy
The ambition shown by Shakespeare characters who seek to secure their legitimacy are only rewarded with self-destruction, as was often the case in real life, because their false legitimacy was proven to be corrupt. Returning to Hunt's concept of “legitimate illegitimacy/illegitimate legitimacy”, legitimacy is a label for one type of outward legitimacy that may have nothing to do with actual legitimacy in another sense. In Richard III and King Lear, both Richard and Edmund have created a false legitimacy for themselves in order to gain power, thus becoming legitimate in spite of their outward illegitimacy. In the end, however, they are destroyed by people whose legitimacy they had slandered in order to create or maintain this false pretext of legitimacy.
After becoming king, Richard becomes aware of a quickly growing threat of invasion from Henry, the earl of Richmond, who is challenging Richard for his right to the throne. Richmond, who would later become Henry VII and the founder of the Tudor dynasty, came from a long line of questionable marriages and connections to the throne. Maurice Hunt notes that the real Richard was quick to capitalize on Henry's dubious legitimacy (Hunt). In his speech to his troops before the battle of Bosworth Field, Richard describes Richmond's army as “A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways,/ A scum of Bretons, and base lackey peasants/[....]You having lands, and blest with beauteous wives, They would restrain the one, distain the other” ( ). Richard also refers to them as “these bastard Bretons” ( ). Richard's slandering of the enemy army is an attack on their legitimacy, alluding to the perception that “vagabonds, rascals, and runaways,” “scum” and “lackey peasants” are cowardly, lazy and poor-quality people. Richard's use of the word “base” and “bastard” to describe them also lists them as literally and morally illegitimate, and purporting the idea that they will ravish their wives characterizes them as immoral. Hunt notes that as well as this being typical of Richard projecting illegitimacy on his enemies to hide the inadequacy of his physical illegitimacy, he is also attacking Richmond's legitimacy: “The bastard Bretons, if triumphant, will spread their bastardy by lathering illegitimate children on the losers' wives. In this conception, politically illegitimate Henry Tudor becomes the wellspring of bastardy in its most basic sense” ( ). Richard's attack on the literal and moral legitimacy of Richmond's army is an attack on Richmond's legitimacy as well.
However, it is Richard, and not Henry Tudor, who is politically as well as morally illegitimate in Shakespeare's depiction. Richmond's speech to his troops alludes to this, as he not only calls Richard “A base foul stone, made precious by the foil /Of England's chair, where he is falsely set. ” Hunt states that “In this pejorative context, the word 'base' catches the overtones of figurative bastardy inherent in Richard's own dehumanized conduct and his tacit self-appraisals and condenses them in the mouth of his adversary” ( ). According to Hunt, then, Henry knows that Richard has not legitimized himself by his immoral or illegitimate behavior but he has proven his own illegitimacy. Hunt, however, neglects the additional evidence of Richard's moral illegitimacy in the following lines, as Henry also calls him “One that hath ever been God's enemy.” He tells his soldiers, “Then, if you fight against God's enemy,/ God will in justice ward you as his soldiers” ( ). Richard, because of his murderous behavior, has bereft himself of divine favor, and so there is a divine sanction for Richmond, a man of more questionable literal legitimacy than Richard's, to overthrow someone of moral illegitimacy. Richard's attempts to slander Richmond are hence to no avail.
The ending of King Lear also proves to be the destruction of the facade of false legitimacy that Edmund created for himself at the hands of his legitimate half-brother Edgar. Through Edgar, the Duke of Albany learns that his wife Goneril has betrayed him and plans to marry Edmund. Albany agrees to allow Edgar to defend his claim, and he tells Edmund “If none appear to prove upon thy head /Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons, There is my pledge; I'll prove it on thy heart” ( ). Like Richmond, Albany resolves to allow divine justice to prove whether or not Edmund's false legitimacy will hold up against a trial by combat. Edmund is insulted that Albany is questioning his self-made image, saying “what in the world he is/ That names me traitor, villain-like he lies. He dares Albany, saying, “Call by thy trumpet: he that dares approach,/ On him, on you, who not? I will maintain/ My truth and honour firmly” ( ). Edmund here declares that he is a man of “truth and honor” even though, as I have already demonstrated, his actions have been anything but based in these principles. The challenger is none other than Edgar, Edmund's half-brother whose legitimacy he stole and good reputation he framed. He states, “Know, my name is lost;/ By treason's tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit:/ Yet am I noble as the adversary/ I come to cope” ( ). By having his legitimacy stolen, Edgar also had his identity taken from him, but he knows the truth of Edmund's treachery as well as the truth of his own legitimacy. Just like Edmund and Albany, Edgar puts his trust in the practice of a trial-by-arms to publish these truths. “This sword, this arm, and my best spirits, are bent /To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak, /Thou liest” ( ). The two brothers fight, and Edmund falls. Edgar reveals his identity by saying, “I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund; /If more, the more thou hast wrong'd me” ( ). They are equals in the sense that they have the same father, but Edgar is “more” because of his legitimacy, therefore Edmund is more wicked because he “wrong'd” Edgar by stealing Edgar's legitimacy, his good reputation, and their father's love. In reference to their father's affair that led to Edmund's birth in the first place, Edgar says, “The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices /Make instruments to plague us,” but this could also be a reference to the price of Edmund's “vices” as well: Edmund, in wronging Edmund, Gloucester, and Albany, has now lost his life. Edgar is also referring to the fact that through his immoral behavior Edmund has paid the penalty of divine justice for his crimes. Edmund stealing his half-brother's legitimacy did not make any change to his own but made himself morally illegitimate on top of being literally illegitimate.
In the history of the Tudor family, divine justice against legitimately illegitimate rulers manifested itself not in armed combat but in the ability to perpetuate one's legitimacy. During her reign, Queen Mary I married and attempted to produce an heir in order to prevent Elizabeth, the half-sister she viewed as illegitimate, from inheriting the throne, but instead she lost her own vitality. After her marriage to her cousin Philip (later King Philip II of Spain), she had two false “pregnancies” in which her womb appeared to swell. However, they were not really pregnancies at all. The reality was that Philip disliked Mary and was hardly ever in England, and in fact he had affairs with other women while he was gone. The second time it happened, modern experts inform us, it was ovarian cancer, a literal smiting of her “organs of increase” ( ). Mary's reign, furthermore, was blighted not only by persecution of Protestants but crop failure and famine. Her subjects may very well have come to believe that the literal and figurative lack of increase to Mary's rule was a sign of divine disfavor and a mark of her illegitimacy as a ruler. After her death, Mary would be regarded as a legitimately illegitmate ruler because she was trying to force Catholicism back on an England that had rejected it during the rule of her father and brother before her. The “bastard” Elizabeth, who was also a Protestant, was vindicated by her ascension on Mary's death.
Part V: A different Context for Legitimacy
Since a person's ambition to prove their legitimacy is a manifestation of corruption, therefore it is not literal legitimacy that is the foundation of a person's character but moral legitimacy or virtue. Literal legitimacy or illegitimacy has no regard for an individual's character. Hunt remarks that although Mary I did much to legitimize herself, her sister Elizabeth I, on the other hand, did not. “Elizabeth's counselors advised her not to repeal the Act of 1536 which bastardized her, or to proclaim her biological legitimacy” and claim the right to rule instead on the basis of her father's will. “In effect, this decision made at the beginning of Elizabeth's long rule kept her bastardization official throughout her lifetime” (Hunt). Sow did a technically “illegitimate” monarch become one of England's greatest rulers? After her sister's chaotic reign, Elizabeth restored the Protestant faith, and she defended Protestantism and the security of her homeland from invasion by the defeat of the Spanish Armada. These and other measures did much to secure the approval of her subjects regardless of her illegitimacy, making her, in their eyes, legitimate. Shakespeare and other writers of the period depicted Elizabeth as a virtuous ruler. It was not Elizabeth's background that gave her the right to rule but the wisdom and strength with which she governed.
Elizabeth I's “illegitimate legitimacy” was not without historical precedent, and in Richard III Shakespeare depicted this dichotomy in the ascension of her grandfather, Henry VII, as perfectly valid because of his “virtuous” overthrow of the morally “illegitimate” Richard. Writes Hunt,“Shakespeare's creation of a scapegoat figurative bastard in King Richard III must have made Richmond's claims nostalgically believable [.... ]the moral bastardy of "legitimate" Richard and the hypocrites of the Yorkist court defines the moral integrity of the 'bastard' Henry Tudor.”
Henry's defeat of Richard effectively ended the Wars of the Roses, and the Lancastrian Henry secured this peace by marrying Elizabeth of York, and in Richard III Shakespeare also turns this into an addition to Henry's moral as well as political legitimacy because he had “rescued” her from the conniving Richard who had both slandered her and sought after her hand in marriage. Richard himself had recognized the potential dichotomy of his suit to Elizabeth, having ordered the assassination of her younger brothers, but he rationalizes it, saying, “But I am in/ So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin” ( ). Richard III's suit of Elizabeth of York, Queen Elizabeth I's grandmother and mother of the Tudor dynasty, is depicted as another example of Richard's crimes and his metaphorical illegitimacy. Henry coming to “rescue” Elizabeth makes him appear all the more heroic and morally legitimate. Hunt comments:
      Legitimate Richard's figurative bastardy (or baseness) by contrast makes other Yorkists and especially Henry Tudor who have been either labeled or associated with bastardy appear less culpable, even--in the Earl of Richmond's case--non-blamable. This dramatic strategy provides the basis for the play's concluding emphasis upon Tudor fertility and legitimacy.
Hunt concludes his paper saying that Richard is a model for a metaphorical human illegitimacy. In Richard III, the demonized predecessor to Henry Tudor, Richard is depicted as, by nature, a man of illegitimate virtues, and one of his greatest crimes is to secure his political and personal legitimacy by bastardizing everyone standing in his way to the throne. In contrast, the heroic Henry, much like Shakespeare's patron, Elizabeth I, gains legitimacy not only by being more virtuous than a figurative bastard but by acting upon it.
In King John, the royal family's struggle for legitimacy is only resolved as they destroy each other in warfare, but the illegitimate son of the deceased King Richard I—known as the Bastard—survives and embraces his illegitimacy in much the same way as Elizabeth I claimed the right to rule through her father, whose union with her mother was very questionable. The Bastard chooses to embrace his illegitimacy because he has more to gain by it publicly and monetarily. He and his half-brother Robert enter King John's court to resolve a succession dispute because, although Robert is younger, he has inherited his late father Sir Robert Faulconbridge's estate because he is the legitimate son. Elinor and John recognize Richard's features in the Bastard's face and claim him as family. The Bastard is pleased with this change in fortune because although he has separated himself from the family that raised him and possibly lost his inheritance, being an illegitimate royal still apparently makes him royalty. Says he to Elinor's recognition of Richard's features, the Bastard says, “I would give it every foot to have this face; I would not be sir Nob [Sir Robert Faulconbridge] in any case” ( ). He tells his mother, whose affair with Richard I led to his conception, “Ay, my mother, With all my heart I thank thee for my father! Who lives and dares but say thou didst not well When I was got, I'll send his soul to hell” ( ). He is in essence telling her that her lack of virtue has done him a favor by improving his fortunes. While in real life Elizabeth I downplayed her illegitimate conception and status, here the Bastard is playing up how this status has, like Elizabeth, rewarded him because of his royal parentage.
For the Bastard, it is not his birth that matters but his attitude that makes him who he is. Queen Elinor calls him “The very spirit of Plantaganet” because of how he imbibes the noble spirit of his birth father. To this, the Bastard replies, “have is have, however men do catch:/Near or far off, well won is still well shot, /And I am I, howe'er I was begot” ( ). The Bastard understands that no matter what his biological origins are, he is who he chooses to be. Even though he is the biological son of Richard I this is an identity he chooses to embrace. The Bastard knows that it is using one's intelligence and being opportunistic that secures a person's fortune better than birth: “For he is but a bastard to the time That doth not smack of observation” ( ). Like Edmund in King Lear, the Bastard recognizes that the person he chooses to be has nothing to do with his legitimacy or birth, but unlike Edmund (or Richard III, for that matter) he does not seek to legitimize himself, instead he accepts himself for what he is and makes the most of his illegitimate status.
Shakespeare plays up the Bastard's embracing of his illegitimacy to heroic (and not to mention comic) effect. On the battlefield in France, the Bastard meets the Duke of Austria who killed his father Richard I. When Austria sees him and asks, “What the devil art thou?” , the Bastard retorts, “One that will play the devil, sir, with you” ( ). The Bastard's constant reference to his father's lion-like qualities (Richard I was known as “Couer-de-lion” or “the Lionheart”) makes it obvious that he wants to follow in the footsteps of his heroic parent. As he is taunting Austria, he says, “O tremble, for you hear the lion roar.” Ultimately, the Bastard avenges his father's death, and in a later battle with the French he is also a heroic leader and described as “valiant” ( ). The Bastard finds his personal as well as moral legitimacy in serving his country and destroying the morally illegitimate villains that fight against England.
[conclusion]
Works Cited
Burton, Gideon. Silva Rhetoricae. Brigham Young University. 9 March 2013. Web.
Hunt, Maurice. "Shakespeare's King Richard III And The Problematics Of Tudor Bastardy." Papers On Language & Literature 33.2 (1997): 115. Academic Search Premier. Web. 6 Mar. 2013.
Lane, Robert. ""the Sequence of Posterity": Shakespeare's King John and the Succession Controversy." Studies in Philology 92.4 (1995): 460-. ProQuest Research Library. Web. 7 Mar. 2013.
Morris, Sylvia. “Hillary Mantel and Shakespeare: two tales of Henry VIII.” The Shakespeare Blog. 15 January 2013. Web.
Shakespeare, William. The Complete Works of Shakespeare. Latus ePublishing. Kindle Edition.
Oxford English Dictionary. Web. 16 March 2013.
New Oxford American Dictionary.



The Progress Draft

Okay, so here's the rough draft that I have for today. It's not quite finished, but I've made a lot of progress since my last one, most notably in doing my close reading. That's where the focus of my paper is, and I would really love some feedback on how convincing my interpretations are. Thanks!

for Paul and for the Gamers

Paul, I thought your conclusion was especially convincing, and the idea of that moment when the gamer has to turn off the video game to win the game seems like this legitimately lovely and moving moment.  You do a great job of basing your argument in a debate that is totally relevant to us today and using historical background to support that, especially with the idea that Shakespeare's plays are today's video games in terms of people's views on their cultural value.

Investing Time in Mikaela's Draft

Mikaela, I felt as I was reading your essay that the order of the paragraphs made sense in building up your argument.  You have an engaging voice as you write and you definitely used the research you've done to your advantage, not just sticking it in the paragraphs but making it prove your point.  You use your knowledge of Shakespeare's time to make a convincing argument and I like how you've connected all these aspects of time into something that doesn't feel sporadic, but orderly.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Better late than never.... updated rough draft

Unfortunately this is only an "updated rough draft" and not a "completed rough draft".  Somehow the past few days have been easily the craziest of the semester. For this reason my draft is a little incomplete. However, looking on the bright side, the ideas that have been able to articulate thus far have really allowed me to refine my overall idea for this paper (in my mind it all makes sense at least) and I feel a lot of confidence that the finished product is going to be something I can be proud of.   So without further adieu.....

 
Steve Kesler
ENG 382
Professor Burton
March 20th, 2013
The Coriolanus Effect: Nature vs. Nurture in Shakespeare’s Coriolanus
            One of times oldest paradox is that of the chicken and the egg. Which came first?
Though this idea has some comedic aspects the complexity that it conveys can be compared to
age old literary debate of nature vs. nurture. Differing from the facetious chicken and egg
argument, which doesn’t pose any real value the argument of nature vs. nurture, on the contrary,
holds enormous worth. The ability to distinguish between innate ability and those that abilities
that are fostered and bread into society allows humankind to better understand the human
relationship that is inherently shared by everyone. Ideally, the importance that this kind
of comprehension would garner is a larger capacity for humankind to relate to one another and
recognize the unavoidable differences that often lead to conflict. (Quote: The importance of
understanding Nature vs. Nurture). In William Shakespeare’s The Tragedy of Coriolanus these
ideas are portrayed and explored. Set in a burgeoning Roman empire the play takes place after
the fall of Tarquin and is semi historical in that aspect. Much of the conflict that is portrayed in
Coriolanus takes place between the different Roman classes, the plebeians and the patricians,
during the transition of the Roman government from monarchy to republic. It is in this setting
that the audience follows the decisions of Coriolanus and witnesses the enormous downfalls that
accompany that characters unrelenting pride. It is specifically through the portrayal of pride that
Shakespeare explores the debate of nature vs. nurture calling into question the origination,
necessity and reason for such a human trait. In doing this Shakespeare constructs a tragedy that
appears to be a warning of the hazards of pride however, a closer examination of the text will
reveal that the tragedy is not wholly the fault of Coriolanus, but occurs on much broader scale.
Though Coriolanus is commonly seen as a tragedy centered on the downfalls of pride in the
individual the tragedy actually is found in the faults of a culture and society that cultivates and
relies on such extreme pride to the extent that it breeds contempt among its people. At the onset of the play it would be easy for one to view the pride of Coriolanus as a trait that is entirely his own. This idea can be grounded in the vicious contempt that he displays towards the plebeians as he bitterly condemns them as useless and famously refers to them as “fragments” (l.). However, a more compelling view on this idea can be seen looking through the eyes of the plebeians themselves. As the play opens the reader is exposed to the ideas of a group of citizens voicing their disapproval of Coriolanus, in this dialogue the vices of Coriolanus are detailed and it appears that Shakespeare is attempting to typify his main character. In doing this, chief among the people’s complaints is the pride that their countries most feared warrior appears to extol: “Consider you what service he has done for his country? /Very well; and could be content to give him good/ report fort, but that he pays himself with being proud/ . . . What he cannot help in his nature, you account a/ vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous” (ll.). Clearly the people do not take kindly to the antipathy that comes as a result of Coriolanus’s pride and they certainly do not look to themselves as guilty of planting the seed in his heart. Because these lines are foremost within the text they are likely to convey and establish the identity of Coriolanus as someone who innately possesses the fatal flaw of pride. If the play stopped here this interpretation could very likely be true however, as the play progresses it becomes readily apparent that there exists a flaw with the value system that the Roman republic applies to its leaders and that perhaps the pride that consumes Coriolanus was not solely developed by him alone. Katherine Stockholder alludes to this destructive kind of nurturing when she conjectures that Coriolanus is merely playing the part that the people themselves thrust upon him: “So great is Coriolanus’ need to maintain the image, reflected in hatred or admiration, of autonomous patriot and warrior . . . that he ironically becomes braggart, traitor, and boy”(229). With this idea in mind it is easily seen how the disdain with which the plebeians regard Coriolanus is actually the root of their own problem as they create the vicious circle that ultimately leads to Coriolanus’ downfall and nearly their own.
             One of the first instances that Shakespeare gives the audience that Coriolanus’s overbearing pride cannot be wholly prescribed as a trait that is innate to his unique person is when his wife, Virgilia, and his mother, Volumnia, are discussing, with excitement, the return of
Coriolanus from battle with the Roman nemesis the Volscians. Volumnia, showing an immense
pride of her own, reveals to Virgilia that even when Coriolanus was young she held the traits of
honor and pride in higher esteem than even the life of her child. After hearing her mother-in-
law’s extreme point of view Virgilia exclaims: “But had he died in the business, madam; how
then?” (l.) Volumnia, through her retort displays her true nature and with it reveals the likelihood
that the cultivation of Coriolanus’s extreme pride had been in developmental process for the
duration of his life: “Hear me profess/sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love/ alike and
none less dear than thine and my good/ Marcius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their/
country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action/” (ll.). As revealing as this scenario already is
as to the way with which Volumnia raised her son, she takes these notions even further,
dispelling all doubt that she did not have a large hand in shaping the tragic flaw that encumbers
her son when, to Virgilia’s horror at the prospect of her husband being wounded, she exclaims
“Away, you fool! It more becomes a man/ Than gilt his trophy; the breasts of Hecuba,/ When
she did suckle Hector, look’d not lovelier than Hector’s forehead when it spit forth blood/ At
Grecian sword” (ll.). Commenting directly on this aspect of the effects of motherly nurturing
Coppelia Kahn asserts that that Volumnia: “By thrusting him from dependency and thrusting
onto him a warrior self of her own devising, Volumnia effectively murdered the babe in
Coriolanus, the loving and vulnerable self within him” (172). Seeing how much value was
placed on honor and pride and then instilled in Coriolanus throughout his formative years it is
obvious to ascertain how Coriolanus developed his fatal flaw as well as a rich contempt for those
in society who do not share his view.
            While the adverse effects resulting from the intimate relationship that is common
amongst a mother and son are easily seen as influential in nurturing the prideful disposition of Coriolanus another destructive relationship can be found in Coriolanus’ relationship to other leaders within the Roman republic. All of these leaders show an almost sacred reverie for Coriolanus, building up his pride to unknown heights all the while unknowingly cultivating in him contempt for the lower Roman classes. It is in this conflict that the paradox of Roman society exists which allows the tragedy of Coriolanus to come to fruition.  These relationships show the broader nurturing aspects that Roman society had in its role in cultivating the tragic pride that is Coriolanus’ downfall and ultimately reveal the real tragedy of the play as they portray a society that is heavily reliant on the extreme pride and dominance of its warriors, yet rejects and condemns the affects that often come, hand in hand, with such traits. An example of this tragic process can be followed in the play when Coriolanus, after displaying exemplary bravery in battle is called to the floor of the senate to be recognized and praised for his valor:
“he stopp’d the fliers;/ And by his rare example made the coward/ Turn terror into sport . . . / his sword, death’s stamp,/ Where it did mark, it took. . ./ alone he enter’d/ The mortal gate of the city, which he painted/ With shunless destiny; aidless came off,/ And with a sudden reinforcement struck/ Corioli like a planet: now all’s his:/” (ll. )
This high amount of praise, though merited, causes an adverse effect on Coriolanus which is shown through his contempt for all that he deems is beneath him, which, because of excess praise, is not just a few people. Later in the when the senate decides to make him a consul to the people and Coriolanus goes, begrudgingly, to seek the approval of the masses he is unable to hide the contempt that is a result of his built up pride: “What must I say?/ ‘I Pray, sir’ –Plague upon’t! I cannot bring/ My tongue to such a pace: -- ‘Look, sir, my wounds!/ I got them in my country’s service, when/ Some certain of your brethren roar’d and ran/ From the noise of our own drums.’” (ll. ).  This display of antipathy on the part of Coriolanus completes paradox that causes the people to disdain their great war hero even though he performs a very necessary service to their country in, through the shedding of his blood, he preserves their peace.  As the people are brought to a realization of the scorn with which they were treated they are quickly incited to reject the man who defends their liberty. Brayton Polka takes illuminates this paradox even further in his article about contradiction in the Roman world, in it he takes a somewhat fatalistic view of the Roman way of life suggesting that the paradox that has just been analyzed is only part of a far greater contradiction: “They do not know what renders their lives contradictory. The Romans know no escape from the contradictory (because finite) one, as both patricians and plebeians, in their endless opposition to each other, claim oneness with Rome. . . . But the tragedy of Coriolanus, the tragedy of Rome, is that there is no world elsewhere, beyond Rome, for the Romans” (n.page).